How Did Anwar Become Famous Online?

Lily Collins is what you could consider as a girl with a purpose. By purpose, I mean to avoid trouble and to stay away from a certain blue eyed boy, with the means to torment her. A boy she can't help have undying feelings for...Asher Grey has everything, girls,money, people kissing at his feet so what more could he ask for? Other than the girl he finds pleasure in bullying, a girl he's in love with. At some point he won't be able to hold in his feelings any longer, it'll start to peek out.______________________________"You look like you just got banged!" He teased as he glanced at my state."What, no I don't?" I said, well more like asked uncertainly as I passed my hand through my unruly hair. I felt the disheveled strands as my finger tugged at some knots.Niall chuckled "Your hair is a mess and your shirt is inside out." He pointed out. My hand automatically went to my shirt as I tugged it and looked around at the prying eyes of the other students."Oh shit!" I muttered once I realized that indeed it was inside out. Gosh this is embarrassing. I pulled down my skirt suddenly feeling self conscious and pulled my shirt higher as I saw a little bit of my boobs peeking out."You also have a lot of love bites." He pointed out again louder than needed, making me give him a lethal look. If looks could kill he would have been dead right now. Maybe I can arrange that."Shut up don't point it out!" I hissed. I'm gonna kill Asher.

Gideon Hart, a man known for keeping every woman at arm's length, gets drugged and wakes up in a hotel with me lying beside him. Afterward, he comes to me and offers ten million as compensation. When I remain silent, my best friend, Lena Quimby, jumps in like she's been waiting for her cue. She snaps that money can't buy everything, trying to reject the offer on my behalf. Before I can say a word, comments start flashing before me like a live stream chat. "Here we go! The male lead, the female lead, and the side character are all on screen together!" "Lena's so classy. Way better than that gold-digger Evelyn." "Watch Evelyn reject the money and still get clowned!" "Who wouldn't pick the sweet, innocent heroine?" Glancing at Lena's flushed cheeks and the way her eyes stick to Gideon, I almost let out a cold laugh. Then, I turn to the man in front of me and hold up my Venmo QR code. "Sure. Wire it!"

A week after my engagement, I was delivered an unusual engagement gift. My phone chimed. I glanced down and saw a push notification from a social app. [Fell in love with a female livestreamer right before my engagement. I feel guilty toward my older girlfriend who's about to become my fiancée—how should I deal with this?] The user ID was "SimonLovesClaire." The profile picture showed a melancholy side view of a man wrapped in a gray scarf. I recognized him instantly. It was my fiancé, Simon Aldrich. That limited-edition scarf was the birthday gift I had given him last year.

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

“So this was your plan all along? The gifts, the sweet notes, the rides... it was all a sick game to get me into your bed.” My voice cracked, thick with tears I refused to shed. “You didn't just break my trust, Vickerry. You let your friends film me. And now you expect me to believe you can fix this? I curse the day I ever met you!” She shattered his ego in front of the entire lecture hall. He swore to make her pay. Vickerry is a rich, scary Alpha student who terrorizes Silver Ridge University Campus. But his new psychology lecturer, Professor Samirah, is not afraid of him. When he tries to bully her by passing disrespectful sxxual remarks about her body. She fights fire with fire, becoming the first person to ever put him in his place. Stung by the humiliation, Vickerry accepts a malicious bet from his friends: get her in your bed and make her fall in love with you. But the game changes during their tense, late-night study sessions. Behind his arrogant armor, Samirah discovers he is dyslexic—and helps him conquer it. They cross the line during a passionate night together, completely unaware that a hidden camera is rolling. Now, the scandalous footage threatens to ruin Samirah’s career and dignity forever. Can Vickerry fix his mistake, or was he the bad guy all along?

My boyfriend said that art held no restrictions, so he used my provocative paintings to enter a competition. Amidst a row of classic ceramic figurines, I became famous. He shot to fame, landing in the top ten of trending searches, while I was humiliated by the entire internet and mocked as a “ceramic influencer.” When I confronted him, he looked at me with disappointment. “They don’t understand art, and neither do you? I thought you would support my work, but I didn’t expect you to stir trouble! You’re so immature!”